


Best Place in the Galaxy

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: He only ever comes to you in the dead of night, or, whatever passes for night in space.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145





	Best Place in the Galaxy

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read - we die like men.

He only ever comes to you in the dead of night - or, whatever passes for night when you’re in space. 

When the lights of the ship are off, the kid’s asleep, and you’re halfway into a fever dream of cold beskar on your heated skin.

The ship creaks, like an old house, sometimes, and sometimes it’s nothing, and other times the creaks are followed by a low, modulated voice.

“Close your eyes.”

“I’m asleep, my eyes  _ are _ closed,” you mutter, but he can hear the smile in your voice and you know it.

You lay still, waiting, afraid that even the slightest breath might make him change his mind, but he doesn’t, and then you hear the sweetest sound - of a beskar helmet hitting the floor with a metallic  _ clunk. _

“Blindfold,” he says, and you  _ love _ hearing his husky voice without the modulator.

You scrabble under the pillow and blindly hold out the soft fabric. He takes it from you and you sit up, facing the wall, eyes still closed, as he very gently ties it over your closed lids.

Then your ears pick up the sound of him undressing, each piece of beskar falling to the floor, and his little, almost inaudible, sigh of relief at the air in the ship hitting his skin, even if it is shitty recirculated air.

The covers shift as he slides in beside you, and pulls you close, and you reach out and touch him, anywhere, everywhere, everywhere he lets you.

You slide your hands up his back as he rolls you under him, fingers greedily learning each sinew of muscle and each scar, the old ones and the newer, tender ones. You spear your hands into his thick, messy hair - what colour? - and cup his scruffy jaw, and desperately wonder what shade his eyes would be in the sunlight of each planet you land on.

He kisses you, tender and soft at first, tasting, relearning, and then harder and more passionate, deeper, as you spread out under him and hook your legs around his hips, drinking him in, wanting these moments to last forever - skin to skin, no secrets. It feels like he gives you everything in these stolen hours, just the sheets and both of you, a tangle of limbs and tongues and sighs.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your mouth, but the word is firm, like he’s staking his claim, and you feel the pleasant scratch of his jaw scruff against your skin as he bites, softly, marking you, and you welcome the tiny hurt. “Best damn place in the Galaxy is right….” And he slides inside you, to the hilt “-here.”

“Hmmm.” You dig your heels into his ass, pulling him in ever closer, and he groans into the curve of your neck. “Why don’t we do this all the time? Just this?”

He rolls his hips into you, hitting the spot  _ just there _ that makes a mewl fall from your lips. “Can’t seem t’ think of a reason, now you mention it.”

You tug on the thick, soft locks of his hair, clenching your fingers in it. Tomorrow, it’ll be hidden underneath all that metal again, but tonight, in the pitch black, it’s yours,  _ he _ is yours, to touch and taste and learn.

He snaps his hips into yours and you shove him on to his back, bracing your hands on his muscular chest as you ride him, head thrown back, and he’s so deeply seated inside you that you think you can feel him everywhere. One of his clever hands reaches to the apex of your body and strums you in the right place, and you shatter, muscles spasming with bliss as he thrusts up into you. You imagine his face as he climaxes, but come up blank, and as his orgasm subsides, you slump loosely on top of him, using him as your mattress, and run your fingers over his face. He absently kisses your fingers, and you curl up, slipping slowly, happily, into sleep.

When you wake up, the helmet will be back on, but for now, he’s just yours, and it’s the best place to be in the Galaxy.


End file.
